


thought we were golden

by bloodredcherries



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: “Kristy doesn’t know what she wants,” she said flatly. “She wants some fantasy of you that she’s created in her mind since you walked out on us.”





	thought we were golden

“So you have  _ no idea _ why this behavior of yours might have annoyed me?” Elizabeth Brewer asked her ex-husband with a tinge of bitterness, and she stared Patrick down as he sat at her kitchen table, playing with a pen that had been left behind during the course of the day. “No idea  _ at all _ ?” 

 

“It’s been years, Liz,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know you’d  _ want _ to go to the game with me. If I had I might have stopped by and scooped you up on our way to Shea.” He shrugged, and she gaped at him, realizing that his tone was what -- for Patrick at least -- passed as apologetic. Because he thought that the reason she was annoyed at him was because he  _ hadn’t brought her to a baseball game _ . “I had to eat the cost of Chuck’s ticket,” he added. “Cost me a pretty penny.”

 

Elizabeth forced herself to draw in a deep breath before responding. Patrick had shown up to drop Kristy off alone, and she didn’t want to have to explain to his new wife that it had been an  _ accident _ that he had gotten a fireplace poker to the heart, or tripped over one of Emily’s toys, that  _ happened _ to be on the top of a staircase. No matter how much she wanted to just...send him away, no matter how angry that she was at Patrick, and how  _ justified  _ she felt in that anger, there was their  _ daughter _ to consider. Kristy had taken one look at her mother’s face when they’d pulled up to the curb and seen her standing on the front porch and fled to her room, forcing her to speak to Patrick Thomas, in person, for the first time in eight years. Well, less than eight, she supposed, the eight year anniversary of his disappearance  _ was _ a month and change away. 

 

“No, I did not want to attend the game with you!” She hissed. “I want to understand why you and Kristy thought that it was appropriate to plan a surprise visit for you to  _ come here _ ! You’re supposed to be an  _ adult _ , Patrick! I understand that being an adult has  _ always _ been a difficult task for you, but I thought after the last time you magically showed up in town without telling anyone you would have thought better of it.”

 

“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” he said. “Look, Liz, I told her to tell you that she wanted to see me again,” he said. “I  _ tried _ . She said that you would be all  _ weird _ about it.”

 

“Kristy doesn’t know what she wants,” she said flatly. “She wants some  _ fantasy _ of you that she’s created in her mind since you walked out on us.”

 

“I  _ had  _ to leave,” he said. “It was one thing when it was the three of them and they were growing up, and there was an  _ end _ to that. I thought that I could get a job in the City,” he told her. “Working for the Post, even. I could have written sports copy for The Post. And then you got pregnant,  _ again _ . Like the first time didn’t do enough to ruin my life. And you just...you expected me to be happy with my promotion at the News. You thought that I was  _ golden _ with it.”

 

“I didn’t expect you to run off in the middle of the night,” she said through gritted teeth. 

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” Patrick admitted. “Liz, I wasn’t even  _ thirty _ ,” he said. “I thought it was the only thing that I could do at the time.” 

 

“You left us,” she repeated. “You barely called, you barely wrote. You knew where where we lived and you knew where to find us. Fine, maybe we weren’t ever going to end up an old married couple retiring in  _ Napa Valley _ ,” she admitted. “Maybe we were only together because I got pregnant with Charlie and we  _ had to  _ get married. We weren’t some grand romance for the ages, Patrick. I know that. I knew it then, too.” She shook her head. “I probably knew it back in ‘ _ 69 _ when we got married in that  _ courthouse _ . But, we had  _ kids _ , Patrick. We had four children that should have come first, that should have been afforded the decency of a father that at the very least paid  _ child support _ .” 

 

“And now I find out that you and our daughter have been corresponding in secrecy for months!” 

 

Edie was getting a headache. Truthfully, she had started to feel the throbbing beneath her skull earlier that evening, when she had managed to intercept the telephone call to her office from Richard Spier, telling her that Patrick and his new wife were in town, and explaining that they had been  _ invited _ by Kristy. It had only worsened when she had managed to spend over an hour in bumper-to-bumper traffic on her commute home from Stamford, the typical 30 minute drive having taken the equivalent of an eternity. Listening to Patrick’s prattling had made it more prominent than it had been all evening. 

  
“Kristy wants to see me,” he said, and she shook her head. “Come on,” he continued. “She wants to get to know Zoey, she wants to spend time with me and her stepmother.” 

 

“Why should I reward either of you for this stunt?” 

 

“It’s not a  _ stunt _ , Mom!” She heard Kristy exclaim, and she cringed inwardly, wondering just how much of that conversation she had heard. “Wanting to have a relationship with my dad isn’t a stunt.”   
  


“I thought you went to your room,” Edie said tiredly. “This really isn’t a conversation that concerns you.” 

 

“Just because Charlie doesn’t like Dad, you don’t want the rest of us to like him?” Kristy retorted, a flash of anger in her eyes. “I didn’t tell you that I wanted him to come to graduation because I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she continued. “Or you would have tried to stop him, and I don’t think that’s very fair.” 

 

“This has  _ nothing _ to do with your brother,” she said firmly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “This has  _ everything _ to do with the fact that you think it’s appropriate to bring your father and your stepmother here for apparently the  _ entire _ summer so you can get to know them? Do you think that’s fair to  _ any of us _ ?”

 

“Dad’s not here for the entire summer,” Kristy told her, and she let out a breath. “I’m going to Saustilo with them.” 

 

“Kristy, I said we had to  _ discuss  _ it with her and your stepfather,” Patrick interjected, much to Edie’s shock, and her semi-respect. “The calls and the letters are one thing, your mother knows that I stay in touch with you that way. I  _ wanted _ to tell Liz that Zoey and I were coming up but you convinced me she’d  _ like _ the surprise. You can’t just tell your mother that you’re moving to California for the summer without letting her offer her input on the subject and expect her to put up.” 

 

Kristy rolled her eyes. Edie blinked rather rapidly, staring at Patrick in confusion. 

 

“I...I’m not in love with the idea,” she admitted. “But...I guess I’ll think it over.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Watson and I agreed that it was setting a double standard if we didn’t consider it,” Edie paused for breath mid-rant, taking a sip of the tea that Richard had provided her when she’d shown up at his house, realizing that it was growing rather lukewarm. “I just...I just don’t understand why she even wants to.”

 

Across the table from her, Richard adjusted his glasses, appearing to be deep in thought. She watched him crumble his scone into his tea, wondering if he was aware he was even doing so. Edie let out a sigh. 

 

“I think you should let her go,” he said, after a moment. “I know that you don’t want to, Edie,” he added. “I  _ understand _ not wanting to let your child do something that they want to do, or spend time with someone that they want to spend time with that you yourself wish they did not want to associate with.” He took a sip of his beverage. “It was  _ unbelievably _ difficult letting Mary Anne go to Maynard to visit Verna. I really did not want to allow it. But, at the same time, it seemed  _ wrong _ to discount the fact that Mary Anne wanted to meet her grandmother.”

 

“Eight years,” she murmured. “It’s been eight years.”

 

“Would you have let her see him eight years ago?” Richard asked. Edie thought the question was positively ridiculous. Of  _ course _ she would have let Patrick see Kristy eight years ago. Edie would have done absolutely anything to have avoided being a single mother, even taking back her abandoner of a husband.    
  


“That’s not the same thing,” she said softly. “He left us.”

 

“I know he did.” Richard squeezed her hand for a brief moment. “Don’t you think that Kristy is old enough to make her own decisions on some things? Like having a relationship with her father?” 

 

Edie shrugged. Of  _ course _ she thought that Kristy was capable of making decisions, she just didn’t particularly  _ like _ all of them. 

 

“What if she doesn’t come home?” She asked. “What if she decides that she likes California more and she doesn’t come home? I don’t  _ want _ that to happen, Richard. I don’t want to lose her to them.”   
  


It was selfish, maybe, and Edie admitted it, but she didn’t want to only see Kristy on school vacations and random holidays just because she’d decided that she liked Patrick and Zoey more than she liked Elizabeth and Watson. She  _ saw _ what that was like, she saw it every time she associated with Richard and Sharon, every time Mary Anne was essentially still an only child because Dawn and Jeff had picked staying in California over staying in Stoneybrook. And it wasn’t like she and Sharon were close, but she couldn’t imagine forging a friendship over bi-coastal children. Especially when she had had eight years free of the fact that Kristy had ever  _ had  _ a father. 

 

“Let her go for the summer,” Richard said. “On a trial basis. It seems like a reasonable compromise.”

 

The worst part was that Edie knew Richard was right.

  
  


***

  
  


“I am very disappointed in the two of you,” Edie said, because she was indeed very disappointed in both her fourteen year old and her first husband, and she wanted to impress this fact upon them before she conceded to accept Kristy’s request for the summer in California. “This behavior had better not be repeated again. Kristy, your father was  _ right _ when he wanted to tell me that he and Zoey were coming up for your graduation, whether you think that this was the right thing to do or not.” She shook her head, before directing her gaze towards Patrick. “Honestly, Patrick, would it kill you to call? Send me a fax even? A telegram?”   
  


Patrick had the grace to look sheepish, while Kristy sat there beside him with a murderous scowl on her face. 

 

“I would not have begrudged you an attempt at being a parent if you had convinced me that you were intending to be serious about it,” she said, sighing softly. “Nor would I have begrudged you wanting your father and stepmother at your graduation.”

 

“It wasn’t a big deal when Sharon and Mr. Spier took Mary Anne to Dawn’s,” Kristy said, her tone bitter. “I don’t see what the difference is.”

 

“That’s because you’re a teen,” she said, counting to ten in her head to stop herself from blurting why  _ she _ thought there was a difference. “Do you really want to go to California and spend some time with Patrick and Zoey?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You let us go to their wedding.”

 

“You can go,” Edie said. “I don’t understand why you want to but you can spend the summer there, as long as your father and Zoey are alright with that.”

 

“Really, Liz?” Patrick asked, eying her in confusion. Kristy’s expression was one of awe.

 

“Yes,” she sighed. “Just...don’t make me regret it.”


End file.
